


Worth

by honooko



Series: Theatre-verse [5]
Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: Hongbin used to think of Valentine's Day as a stupid, sappy, cringey, capitalist scheme of a holiday that only fools participated in. Then he got a boyfriend.





	Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Isa, you have been waiting so patiently. ;; ♥

Never in his life would Hongbin have expected to have such anxiety over a holiday as stupid as _Valentine’s Day_. Normal people got stressed about Christmas or Chuseok or anniversaries; Hongbin, in his continuing experience as a weirdo, was losing his mind over the most blatantly capitalist, utterly unnecessary, and _sappiest_ holiday in the entire year.

He’d also never had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.

It wasn’t even that Wonshik seemed to be expecting anything; in fact, Wonshik seemed so continually delighted by every small gesture Hongbin could think of that it was beginning to feel like he had exactly zero expectations. At first, it had been reassuring. Now, it felt as if the bar of standards was so low it was touching the floor.

Hongbin really wanted to make Wonshik happy. He couldn’t help but think about what would happen to them if Wonshik figured out how little Hongbin actually had to offer; the novelty would wear off pretty soon unless he changed things. The thought of Wonshik getting tired of him gave him a tight, sick feeling in his chest. He’d had a few nightmares about it, although never when Wonshik stayed over and snored death metal in his ear. Despite the noise, he couldn’t deny the fact that he always felt a little braver and a little safer in Wonshik’s arms.

Standing in front of a Valentine’s display at the stationery store, however, was slightly freaking him out.

Cards. Candy. Chocolates. Stuffed animals. Flowers. Pink. Red. More pink. Even more red. Even _more_ pink.

“Fuck,” Hongbin said to the display, utterly overwhelmed. Wonshik didn’t really like sweets, so candy or chocolate seemed like a stupid choice, but flowers felt so cheesy he thought he might just cringe himself inside-out trying to give them. A card? For Wonshik? The guy who texted him with a heart emoji in an absolute minimum of 80% of messages? The guy who constantly hummed love songs in his ear? The guy who _saved a napkin_ from the burger joint on their first date?

He might as well hand Wonshik a tissue with a sticker on it.

Hongbin went to a café across the street, frantically googling ‘valentine’s presents’ on his phone. It was an endless stream of paper hearts, candies, and flowers. None of it seemed right. He toyed briefly with the idea of just _asking_ Wonshik what he’d like, but that seemed stupid too; what was even the point if it wasn’t a surprise? If he asked, he’d just be fulfilling an established expectation, which was exactly what he was trying _not_ to do.

He wished he was rich; maybe then he could drop some cash on something Wonshik might really want, like new headphones or cool jewelry. Something that said, “I love you so much, price tags are irrelevant.”

But he was a college student; he could afford food, laundry detergent, and—things he and Wonshik had been using more recently. He put his face in his hands just thinking about it. He was definitely enjoying himself, but somehow as soon as Wonshik wasn’t around, he couldn’t think about it without being embarrassed. Nobody knew, but he felt like _everyone_ knew, just by looking at him.

For a very brief moment, he considered trying to plan something sexy for Wonshik as a present, but the very thought was so immediately humiliating he put his head down on the table and sighed.

“Binnie!”

Hongbin’s head jerked up to see Jaehwan happily throwing himself into the chair across the table. If he was being honest, it was nice to hang out with Jaehwan—not only was he someone who had, rather unbelievably, not gotten bored of him, Jaehwan was fun.

“Hey,” he said. He must have looked a bit... off, because Jaehwan frowned.

“You look kind of stressed,” Jaehwan said. “What’s going on?”

“I’m... kind of overwhelmed, actually,” Hongbin confessed.

“Wonshik?” Jaehwan said primly.

“Yeah—I mean, not like you’re probably thinking, he’s actually really chill mostly, it’s just—it kind of seems like literally anything I do is more than he was expecting. His bar for me is so low.”

“It’s probably less you and more him, though, right?” Jaehwan said, drinking from his Frappuccino. “It’s not that he doesn’t expect shit from you, he doesn’t think he really deserves anything from you.”

Hongbin blinked at him, startled.

“Why would he think that?” he asked, genuinely baffled. “He deserves the best.”

“Everybody’s got a hang-up or twelve,” Jaehwan shrugged. “You think you’re boring and undeserving of attention, he thinks you’re way out of his league and just haven’t figured it out yet.”

“We kind of talked about that though,” Hongbin informed him. “The league thing, at least. I—he’s great, I’m lucky, end.”

He wasn’t lying; they’d talked about a lot of things Hongbin had never envisioned himself talking about with another person, ever, period. Sometimes even multiple conversations about the same thing, if it seemed to be something they were still feeling. He spent a lot of time talking about feelings, really. 

Wonshik’s bottomless patience for Hongbin’s hesitations had encouraged him to talk about why he was hesitating at all, and reassuring him that Wonshik wasn’t going to push or rush him. Hongbin tried to build up Wonshik’s confidence and self-esteem as much as possible, and remind him to let things go and just have fun more. He worked himself to the bone sometimes; as good as Wonshik was at taking care of him, he was terrible at taking care of himself. 

“So what’s the problem then?” Jaehwan asked. It should have sounded accusatory, but Jaehwan managed to keep the tone light and curious. Hongbin sighed.

“I want to get him something for Valentine’s, but everything I have to choose from is stupid. He doesn’t like sweets, flowers die, cards are just so... _lame._ I don’t know what to pick,” he explained.

“Well,” Jaehwan said. “You know him best.”

Hongbin opened his mouth to protest the point, but shut it, considering. Was that really true? Surely Hakyeon-hyung knew him better, or Taekwoon-hyung. They’d definitely known him longer. That said, he felt like a considerable number of the things Wonshik told him were things he definitely hadn’t ever told anyone else. 

“I guess,” Hongbin said. Jaehwan jumped, squeaking, before pulling out his phone; it had apparently been on vibrate in his back pocket. He glanced at his messages quickly, then looked up at Hongbin sheepishly.

“Sorry, I gotta go. I promise Hyukkie we could watch the ‘Naruto’ movie tonight and I’m supposed to buy popcorn.”

“Which ‘Naruto’ movie?” Hongbin asked. Jaehwan paled.

“There’s more than one?” he asked in alarm.

“There’s more than ten, I think,” Hongbin informed him. “I don’t think most of them got theatrical releases outside of Japan, but they definitely broke ten.”

“Oh god,” Jaehwan said. “I hope I didn’t promise to watch all of them. I don’t think I did. What if I did!?”

“You’re going to need a lot more popcorn,” Hongbin suggested. Jaehwan looked at his phone in horror.

“I’m so screwed,” he said. “If I back out I’ll break his heart. Shit, I’m going to have to watch ten ‘Naruto’ movies.”

“More than ten,” Hongbin reminded him, smug. It was kind of nice to see this side of their relationship; people tended to get caught up in how they looked together, both during the play and after. He spent enough time with Sanghyuk to know it went much deeper than that (and how nervous Sanghyuk got admitting that) but it was still kind of fun to see Jaehwan panicking over something as minor as committing to more bad movie nights than he’d anticipated.

“Fuck,” Jaehwan said, standing up. “Alright, popcorn. Maybe also alcohol, that might help me get through it.”

“You drink?” Hongbin asked, surprised.

“No,” Jaehwan said. “But this seems like a good reason to start. See you later!” Hongbin waved him off with a smile, before immediately falling back into despair upon the realization that he _still_ didn’t have any ideas.

What was even more frustrating is that the person he most wanted to bounce ideas off of was the same person he was trying to keep this a surprise from in the first place.

He had a week. One week to find the perfect present for the best person he’d ever met.

Hongbin was starting to think maybe he should have started planning all of this a little sooner.

 

 

“This was the worst idea I have ever had in my life,” Hongbin told the guitar in his lap. “Literally nothing good could possibly come of this and I’m the worst boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.” He strummed chords that he’d only recently gotten a decent hang of; once he got over the embarrassment of practicing in the same room as Wonshik, he’d spent more time on it, but still not enough. 

He probably should take a class in it, but that would require being bad at it in front of strangers, an intolerable situation.

“I act, I’m an actor,” he informed the instrument firmly. “I don’t—I’m not Wonshik, I can’t make great sounds. I can’t even make okay sounds. Just these.” The chords almost taunted him; disconnected harmonic layers that he had to stretch his fingers just to reach sometimes.

“I don’t even write,” he sighed. “I don’t know how to word things or come up with melodies or—anything.”

The guitar didn’t respond, only continuing to deliver the soft chords he ran across the strings. He would have hesitated to say he even played a complete song at this point; he knew the verses and choruses of various songs he liked, and if pressed he could probably stumbled his way through a couple of pieces, but it wouldn’t sound very good.

Even knowing this, he had (against all better judgment) sat down with a purpose: for Wonshik. He combined chords in new ways, listening for something that was both original and somewhat pleasing; every time he hit something that was even slightly new, he quickly jotted it down on a piece of blank guitar music sheets. He hadn’t put anything together, he just strummed randomly and hoped it would eventually make some sort of coherent sense.

He was disrupted by his phone chirping at him.

_Wonshik: Hey, are you at home?_

_Yep,_ Hongbin shot back. _When I am I not?_

_Wonshik: Can I come over?_

Hongbin frowned; he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about the request felt... weird. 

_Yeah, of course,_ he said.

_Wonshik: See you in about fifteen._

The third message made everything click into place: no heart emoji. All three were clipped, cold, and lacking in the silly affectionate expressions that usually composed the majority of Wonshik’s messages.

It worried him.

When Wonshik showed up shortly thereafter, it only made him worry more.

“Hey,” Wonshik said when Hongbin opened the front door. He wasn’t even smiling; Hongbin instinctively grabbed his hand to pull him inside and shut the door behind him; normally, Wonshik would immediately be hugging him, or kiss him on the cheek, or _something_ , but he stayed quiet, and more alarmingly, distant. Something was clearly wrong, and Hongbin found himself desperate to fix it no matter what the problem was, but he didn’t entirely know what to do. Hongbin felt ice settle in his stomach, heavy and cold, stopping his heart. Was it happening? Was this it? Was Wonshik—no, he knew better by now. He had more faith in Wonshik than that. At the very least, he assumed Wonshik would dump him a little more carefully.

“What can I do?” Hongbin asked him very quietly.

“What?” Wonshik asked, distracted. Hongbin couldn’t take it anymore; he put his arms around Wonshik’s neck and pulled him into a hug.

“What can I do?” he repeated. “To—to get you back?”

“Get me back?” Wonshik parroted.

“Yeah,” Hongbin said, wishing Wonshik would just hug him back. “You’re—not really here right now. It’s—kind of freaking me out a little.”

Finally, his words seemed to have some kind of effect, because Wonshik’s arms went around his waist and he bent his head enough to press his face against Hongbin’s neck. He exhaled, shaky, and squeezed Hongbin tighter.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, talk,” Hongbin admonished him gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad day,” Wonshik said. “Nothing really special, just—just bad, I guess.”

Hongbin didn’t know what to say, so he unwound his arms from around Wonshik’s neck and grabbed him by the hand to pull him to the bedroom. He didn’t have any sort of ulterior motives, just that if he was going to cuddle (and it definitely seemed like Wonshik needed it) it was far more comfortable to do so on his bed than on his lumpy couch. He went to the head of the bed and sat with his back against the wall, waving Wonshik over impatiently. Wonshik, however, didn’t seem to be following Hongbin’s train of thought and just stared at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?” Hongbin asked, frowning. “Come here.”

“You hate this,” Wonshik pointed out. Hongbin blushed. It wasn’t that he hated it, exactly, so much as he had to be in a particular mood to cuddle and Wonshik seemed to be in that mood perpetually.

“I don’t,” he said. “Even if I did, you need this. Come here.” He held out his arms and waved his hands impatiently, and Wonshik finally caved and joined him. He laid down next to Hongbin, with his head in Hongbin’s lap and his face towards Hongbin’s feet. Hongbin sighed; he wasn’t against it, and he wasn’t uncomfortable, he just felt like he should be able to do more for Wonshik by now than be a glorified pillow. He combed his fingers through Wonshik’s hair and battled with his inner frustrations.

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik said again, and Hongbin frowned.

“Stop doing that,” he said.

“You shouldn’t have to listen to me whine,” Wonshik protested.

“I don’t ‘have’ to do anything,” Hongbin pointed out. “I want to.”

“Why would you want to hang around me when I’m a miserable slouch?” Wonshik mumbled.

“Because you’re _my_ miserable slouch and I’m going to use every second I have with you,” Hongbin said. “Would you want to be around _me_ when I’m miserable?”

“Of course,” Wonshik said instantly.

“Then why is it so weird that I want to, too?”

“I don’t know,” Wonshik said, hesitant. “I guess it’s not.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Hongbin asked him, shifting a bit to get more comfortable. Wonshik was slowly melting under his fingers, tension easing from his body as Hongbin continued to offer him comfort. His fingers left Wonshik’s hair to run down his neck and try to push even more of the tension out. Wonshik moaned softly, clenching his fingers, and Hongbin snorted.

“See? I told you you need this,” he informed Wonshik smugly.

“You’re right,” Wonshik said with a pleased little sigh. “You’re always right.”

“So what made today so shit?” Hongbin asked again, still petting the sweet boy in his lap. Sometimes he still couldn’t quite believe Wonshik was even real; it seemed so monumentally absurd that Wonshik loved him, almost like a joke of the universe, but whatever had caused Wonshik to lose all reason, he hoped it continued. 

“I woke up late, then I got to class late and missed like half of the exam study guide presentation,” Wonshik said. “Then the cafeteria was out of pizza—pizza! So I had to eat a shitty sandwich. Then I dropped my coffee while I was walking and it kind of burned my fingers, which hurt even more when I was fiddling with the mixing board. Oh, and I washed a white shirt with a red sock, so now I have a baby pink shirt and a red sock.”

“I don’t see a problem there,” Hongbin informed him. “You look good in pink.”

“That’s—thanks, but I wanted a white shirt,” Wonshik sighed. “Just... karma was unusually vicious today.”

“Karma?” Hongbin asked. “What the hell could you possibly do to be worried about _karmic retribution_?”

“I stepped on a guy’s foot yesterday,” Wonshik said. “It was a full stomp, I felt pretty bad.”

“And?”

“I borrowed a girl’s pen but I totally forgot to give it back to her and I don’t know how to give it back now without it being weird.”

“ _And_?”

“I emailed my professor my paper but I didn’t attach it the first time so I had to send it again,” Wonshik confessed. “Poor guy had two emails from me.”

“Truly, you have doomed yourself to another hundred cycles on the mortal coil,” Hongbin said dryly. “Your depravity and malice shall not go unpunished.”

“I’m trying to be miserable down here,” Wonshik whined. “You’re making it harder.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hongbin snorted. “Here I was thinking you wanted to feel better.” Wonshik just sighed sadly again; it was very hard to tolerate a sad Wonshik, not just because he was extremely hard on himself, but also because being happy suited him so much more. Hongbin bent down.

“You know I hate this, but I’m going to make an exception just this once.” He dropped a quick kiss on Wonshik’s temple, trying not to cringe. Wonshik rolled over so he was facing up—and smiling.

“Well, now it’s _impossible_ to be miserable,” he said. “You’re the worst. Luckily, I love you, so I’ll get over it.”

Hongbin blushed; it didn’t seem to matter how many times he heard it, or said it himself; it still felt special somehow. He wasn’t sure if that was a normal relationship thing, or a Kim Wonshik thing, but he kind of hoped he would never know; he liked to think it was a Kim Wonshik thing.

“How was _your_ day?” Wonshik asked him, reaching up with one hand to rearrange Hongbin’s bangs with long, elegant fingers.

“Um,” Hongbin said, remembering the Display Of Cringe And Gross. “I saw Jaehwan-hyung for a bit?”

“Sounds fun!”

“It was only for like, ten minutes,” Hongbin said. “He was getting popcorn. Hyukkie got him to agree to watch some of his weeb shit.”

“...He accidentally agreed to watch all of it, didn’t he,” Wonshik said flatly.

“Did you know there are _eleven_ ‘Naruto’ movies?” Hongbin said. “He sure didn’t.”

“I’m sure at least four of them are... not... complete trash,” Wonshik attempted. 

“Four out of eleven aren’t great odds,” Hongbin reminded him.

“I feel kind of bad for Hyukkie,” Wonshik said. “He really likes them, but there’s no way Jaehwan is going to... appreciate the, uh... artistry...”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days.”

Wonshik fell into silence, but the smile on his face stayed put. He seemed to just be content with staring at Hongbin’s face; it wasn’t the first time he’d been entertained this way, but usually Hongbin wasn’t essentially stuck staring back at him because he had his Vita in his hands. Now, however, he had nothing to distract himself from Wonshik’s eyes. And mouth. And—everything. His everything.

“Why does doing this make you happy?” Hongbin asked softly. 

“Because—”

“Don’t say I’m handsome,” Hongbin warned him.

“I wasn’t going to,” Wonshik said with a pout. “Give me some credit, would you?”

“Fine,” Hongbin said. “What were you going to say?”

“Because you’re real,” Wonshik said. “It’s—It’s great.”

“I’m real?” Hongbin said with a raised eyebrow. “Like in a hip-hop way?”

“No, in an existential way,” Wonshik said. “Like I fell into a parallel universe, but this one is better than mine anyway.”

“You’re unusually weird today, even for you,” Hongbin informed him, blushing. It didn’t help that he not only understood, but 100% agreed with him. If the world just stopped existing outside them, he didn’t think he would mind in the slightest. Of all the things that tied him to his current reality, the only ones he really cared about were his family... and Wonshik.

“Sorry,” Wonshik said, but because he was still smiling, Hongbin didn’t feel like he needed to scold him for it.

“For the record,” Hongbin said softly, “I like this universe too.”

Wonshik beamed, and Hongbin couldn’t help but smile back.

 

 

“Hyung,” Hongbin said, wringing his hands nervously. “I need a favor.” Taekwoon looked up from his laptop and pulled out an earbud with a questioning expression. Hongbin winced.

“I need a favor,” he repeated; Taekwoon looked like he was about to put his earbuds back in so he quickly added, “It’s for Wonshik.” 

“What about Wonshik?” Taekwoon asked cautiously. Hongbin was mildly offended by the tone, but he felt like he’d spent enough time with ‘space-kitty hyung’ at this point to have a reasonable read of him.

“I’m trying to make something for him, but I think it’s turning out kind of shit,” Hongbin said.

“I can’t teach you to cook,” Taekwoon informed him.

“Not—not food, music,” Hongbin said. “I’m trying—to write him a song.”

Taekwoon blinked at him slowly.

“For his birthday?” he asked. Hongbin had a moment of pure alarm before remembering he did, in fact, know Wonshik’s birthday. They already had plans: a nearby game center just got a VR experience and they had a reservation. The first scenario involved rescuing a cat from a steel girder hundreds of feet in the air. Hongbin was excited for the VR; Wonshik was excited for the cat.

“Yeah,” Hongbin said, not quite willing to admit it was for Valentine’s. “His birthday, sure.”

“That’s in six days,” Taekwoon felt the need to point out.

“I really, _really_ tried to make something myself, but I am sincerely terrible at this so I was kind of hoping you’d take pity on me?” Hongbin said. “I’ll buy you Cheetos.”

“Regular.”

“What?”

“Regular Cheetos,” Taekwoon said. “Not the ‘flaming hot’ kind.”

“Why not? I thought you liked those.”

“I do,” Taekwoon said, pouting. “But Hakyeon won’t let me kiss him if I’ve eaten them. He said he gets secondary burns.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Hongbin said stiffly, hoping to avoid triggering one of the few topics Taekwoon was actually (relatively) talkative about. So far, the list read ‘nephew’, ‘Japanese dramas’, ‘dogs’, and ‘Hakyeon’. He had places to be today.

“So what do you need help with?” Taekwoon asked, leaning back his chair. It looked like kind of a precarious situation, but far be it for Hongbin to criticize poor sitting posture.

“I’m—I’m trying to write him a song,” Hongbin admitted, looking at the floor. “It sounds awful though.”

“Didn’t you just start guitar recently?” Taekwoon asked; Hongbin looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. How did he know that? Hongbin hadn’t told anyone but Wonshik. Taekwoon held up one hand. “You’ve got the calluses now. From steel strings.”

“I—yeah, less than a year,” Hongbin sighed, sitting down. “And it’s not like I’m taking a class or anything, just watching YouTube videos and screwing around. I don’t know why I thought this could work, but I’m kind of... really committed to the idea now.”

“I don’t play guitar,” Taekwoon informed him. “Just piano.”

“I know,” Hongbin said. “Mostly I just need... someone to tell me when I’ve got something halfway decent.”

“Are you doing lyrics?” Taekwoon asked.

“God, no,” Hongbin said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d even say. I thought probably music would... mean just as much to him, but I just totally failed to come up with anything.”

“It’s only failure if you give up,” Taekwoon said. Hongbin blinked, taken aback by the unusually warm wisdom. It wasn’t that he thought Taekwoon wouldn’t care, but... he guessed he hadn’t given Taekwoon much credit in his skills as a mentor of sorts. In retrospect, he probably should have, considering the amount of time he spent with Wonshik, working on music-related things.

“Does that mean you’ll help me?” Hongbin asked.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said. “Music theory is boring this term anyway. Show me what you have so far.”

Hongbin pulled out the book of blank guitar music sheets he’d been filling and passed them over somewhat nervously. His handwriting was a disaster, he hoped it was legible.

“...Is it supposed to be this disjointed?” Taekwoon asked with a slight frown.

“No, but that’s kind of the problem,” Hongbin sighed. “It’s like I can make chunks of something, but I can’t connect anything. It just jumps around.”

“Hmm,” Taekwoon said, turning pages. “You wrote a lot, though.” He sounded somewhat impressed; Hongbin wasn’t sure he was hearing it right until Taekwoon looked up and smiled at him. 

“I just... thought maybe if I kept going, eventually I’d hit something,” he explained awkwardly, unused to Taekwoon being so... friendly.

“It’s hard to get this much,” Taekwoon said. “Even if it’s pieces, there’s stuff to work with here.”

“You think so?” Hongbin said, hopeful.

“Yeah,” Taekwoon said with a nod. “You need some connective tissue, but otherwise it’s not bad.”

Hongbin sagged back in relief. They had something workable. He wasn’t hopelessly in over his head. He’d managed to make something at some point that could potentially turn into a song, with Taekwoon’s help.

“Can we fix it in six days?” he asked. Taekwoon screwed up his face, seemingly about to deny it, but he looked at Hongbin’s face and must have changed his mind, because he patted Hongbin on the knee.

“Sure,” he said. “Do you want to start now?”

“If you’re not busy,” Hongbin said.

“Like I said,” Taekwoon shrugged. “Music theory is really boring this term.”

 

 

Really, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting; the campus movie theater had been doing ‘Throwback Thursdays’ where they showed 90s and 2000s classics for a few months. Usually neither of them cared that much, but Wonshik begged to go see ‘Homeward Bound’ and Hongbin had absolutely no ability to refuse him.

“Are you crying? You are, aren’t you,” he said with a sigh.

“Sh-shadow is so old,” Wonshik sniffled. “He’s such a good boy.”

“You’ve seen this movie,” Hongbin reminded him. “You already know he’s going to—”

“Shhhh!” Wonshik said. “Don’t ruin it!”

“You’ve _already seen it_ ,” Hongbin repeated. He’d at least learned from the last movie they saw here to bring a packet of tissues with him; he fished them out of his jacket pocket and passed them over. Wonshik was hugging his arm and hiccupping on his shoulder—it was weirdly cute, so he couldn’t even quite bring himself to be annoyed about it.

Really, there were very few things about Wonshik he could bring himself to be annoyed about. It kind of worried him sometimes; shouldn’t there be some things he didn’t like? Jaehwan didn’t like Sanghyuk’s anime. Hakyeon didn’t like Taekwoon’s table manners. Hell, Wonshik didn’t like when Hongbin got too hard on himself about something. Normal relationships had these kinds of things, right? So what did it mean if he didn’t?

It was when Wonshik noisily blew his nose that he remembered: ah, yes. Wonshik was occasionally absolutely _gross._

“Could you maybe not do that basically in my ear?” Hongbin grumbled. “It’s nasty.”

“S-sorry,” Wonshik sniffed. “I was just thinking about Michael J. Fox.”

“You—what?!”

“Chase,” he sighed. “He’s Chase, but now he’s got Parkinson’s and he _can’t_ be a good dog anymore.”

“Okay,” Hongbin said patiently. “Yeah, okay, sure. That’s really sad. Got it.” He patted Wonshik’s knee and heaved a sigh. At least the movie would be over soon. Wonshik would definitely be crying more at the end; hopefully the tissue supply held out.

By the time it was over and he had shuffled his emotional boyfriend out the door and down the street, he was battling between mixed feelings of disgust and affection. Especially since Wonshik refused to let go of his arm, occasionally rubbing at his nose with tissue that was already deteriorating in his hands.

“Where are we going?” Hongbin asked him, halting. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine’s closer,” Wonshik pointed out. 

“I’m kind of hungry, do you guys have food right now?” Hongbin asked.

“Yeah, Hyung went shopping yesterday,” Wonshik said. “As long as it doesn’t have his sticker on it, we can eat it.”

“His sticker?”

“Yeah, he has these hamster stickers he sticks on his stuff,” Wonshik explained. “He used to write his name with a sharpie, but the other guys kind of just ignored it. It’s way harder to hide the hamster though.”

“Alright, so no hamster, it’s fine?” Hongbin asked, deciding not to question Taekwoon’s methods. He was sure it made perfect sense to Taekwoon, and probably Hakyeon. 

“Yeah, he usually gets me instant stuff if I give him cash before he goes,” Wonshik said. They started walking down the street towards the apartment he shared with Taekwoon and the others. Hongbin barely remembered their names, having seen them so infrequently he wasn’t entirely sure he’d even met all three. It worked out for Taekwoon and Wonshik that they basically never came home. Not that Wonshik came home every night anymore either. Hongbin was fairly sure Taekwoon was still there a fair bit just because Hakyeon was so busy, but he tried not to think about it too much.

He really just... didn’t want or need to know.

They shuffled into a pitch-dark apartment, which Hongbin took to mean no one was home. He slightly relieved; he wasn’t sure how to greet Taekwoon without making it incredibly obvious he was hiding something.

“Do you want ramyeon?” Wonshik asked, heading towards the kitchen, but Hongbin grabbed his elbow.

“For the love of god, please wash from your finger tips to your elbows before you even walk into that kitchen,” he said firmly. Wonshik shot him a sad look, as if he was _hurt_ (very funny, jerk) before shuffling off to the bathroom to do as he was told.

True to their name, the instant ramyeon cups were ready to eat in minutes; they went to Wonshik’s room to eat. Hongbin was low-key fascinated by Wonshik’s room: there were a lot of posters, mostly album covers, but also some straight-up art posters he’d gotten at exhibitions or museums. He liked brighter colors, and he had a light next to his desk that smoothly transitioned between shades of purple, blue, and a little pink. His bed was made in the loosest sense of the word, with the covers pulled over the top. There was no tucking whatsoever, but Hongbin got the impression it was less about laziness and more about genuinely not knowing how to properly make a bed.

Wonshik also had some weird stuffed animals on a shelf next to some equally weird figures, and a giant CRAFTHOLIC rabbit plush he hugged when he was sleeping. Sometimes he confused Hongbin for the rabbit and had to be woken up before Hongbin died from the squeezing.

The main point of the room was without question the CD rack; it was the largest Hongbin had seen outside of an actual music store, and meticulously organized. Wonshik’s computer was a laptop on a small desk to the side of it, with speakers plugged in. Hongbin knew for a fact that the speakers had been _very_ expensive, and Wonshik had saved up for months to buy them. Before eating, Wonshik immediately went to the laptop to get music playing; he never played it loud enough to compete with speaking.

Wonshik settled on the bed next to him, cross-legged, inhaling his noodles with remarkable speed. Hongbin wasn’t that much slower, but he was slightly more sensitive to temperature than Wonshik in general. It was in the silence that he realized he knew the song; it was Billy Joel. He frowned, then looked at Wonshik.

“Did you look at my Spotify again?” he said, suspicious. Wonshik froze.

“Mmmbe,” Wonshik said around his noodles.

“You don’t have to keep making playlists just for me!” Hongbin complained. “Just listen to what you like, it’s fine!”

“I like your stuff too!” Wonshik shot back.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you own a single Billy Joel CD,” Hongbin dared him.

“I own a single Billy Joel CD,” Wonshik informed him. “It’s on the shelf.”

“Liar.”

“I do!” Wonshik said. “I—” He abruptly shut his mouth and turned red.

“Keep talking,” Hongbin said dryly.

“I... bought it to give you, but I realized you already have it, so I just kept it.”

“Let me guess,” Hongbin said. “You bought ‘The Stranger’.”

“How—”

“Wonshik, that is literally the most successful album he ever had. It’s his—masterpiece, I guess. Critical acclaim, remained one of the best-selling records from the 70s way after the 70s... if anyone has a Billy Joel album, there’s like a 90% chance it’s ‘The Stranger’,” Hongbin informed him. “Of _course_ I own it.”

“Well, yeah,” Wonshik said. “I mean, I figured that out, just after I bought it.”

“You could have returned it,” Hongbin pointed out.

“I never return music,” Wonshik said. “If I don’t like it, I give it away. But that’s only happened like... four times. ‘The Stranger’ is really good, I get why you like it.”

Hongbin blushed and looked down at his noodles.

“I tried singing it,” he admitted. “’The Stranger’, I mean.”

“Yeah?” Wonshik said, smiling. “How did it feel?”

“I’m not Billy Joel,” Hongbin mumbled, “But I think it was okay?”

“How was the falsetto?” Wonshik said, bumping his knee into Hongbin’s with a playful grin.

“Hey, at least I _have_ a falsetto, unlike _somebody_ ,” Hongbin huffed.

“That’s great! See, I told you taking voice for a term would help,” Wonshik chirped. “The coaches here are pretty good, right?”

“Yeah, they... I mean, we get to pick anything we want within reason, so it’s kind of fun. Still not super comfortable singing without acting, but it’s... better,” Hongbin admitted. “I don’t think I would have done it without the show first though.”

Without even a second’s warning, Wonshik had leaned forward and kissed him sweetly, before pulling back and slurping more noodles. Hongbin blushed more. He knew he’d given Wonshik permission to do it, but it still surprised him almost every time. Wonshik just got the urge to kiss him at the _weirdest times._ Hongbin didn’t even ask why anymore.

Partly because the answer was always, “I love you,” and he still wasn’t used to hearing it.

Park Hyoshin’s voice washed out of Wonshik’s speakers, and Hongbin felt a happy warmth wash over him as he melted. He also heard Wonshik snort, but decided to ignore it in favor of ‘Wildflower’ bliss.

 

 

Hongbin looked at the stack of sheet music Taekwoon handed to him in awe. For one thing, it was remarkably tidy for someone who was well known to have terrible handwriting—with either hand. For another, it was both visibly coherent and _simple_.

“This... looks easy, kind of,” Hongbin said.

“It’s kind of pointless to write something you can’t play,” Taekwoon said. “You can add on to it as you get better, make it harder.”

“How did you—this must have taken _so long,_ ” Hongbin said, trying very hard not to let his gratitude spill over.

“Not really,” Taekwoon said. “Like I said, you had good pieces, just... not put together. I added a bridge and a transition between the verses and the chorus, but it’s less than three bars.”

“Are you telling me I wrote this?!” Hongbin said, shocked.

“90% of it, yeah,” Taekwoon shrugged. “I had to run it through a synth, so it’s still a little choppy, but once you actually play it, just... smooth it out.” He smiled, small but warm, and Hongbin could feel the gratitude bubbling up again. They weren’t even _close_ but Taekwoon had done _so much_ for _Cheetos._

He kind of wanted to hug Taekwoon, but he’d only ever seen Hakyeon and Wonshik do it, and it kind of seemed like half the time Taekwoon was barely tolerating it from them. He had a hard time believing Taekwoon would tolerate one from him.

But he really _wanted_ to hug him. Hongbin had a sudden suspicion that this desire was somehow Wonshik’s fault, because he definitely had not been a hugger until recently.

Taekwoon lifted one arm.

“Go,” he said softly with a sigh. Hongbin blinked at him, so he waved his hand impatiently. “Hugging. Go.”

“How did—”

“You look like him, you know,” Taekwoon informed him. “You make the same kinds of faces. That’s the hug face.”

“You don’t want to hug me,” Hongbin protested.

“Not really, but you do,” Taekwoon said. His expression suddenly turned uncertain, and his arm lowered slightly. “Unless you don’t?”

Why did he sound _sad_?

Hongbin ducked under his arm and gave him a hug. It wasn’t Wonshik-level, and it definitely wasn’t Hakyeon-level, but he was pretty sure he did it okay when he pulled back and saw Taekwoon smiling. Maybe he’d underestimated Taekwoon’s general appreciation of hugs after all. As if to add to the feeling of not-really understanding his weirdest hyung, Taekwoon patted him on the top of the head a few times before withdrawing his hand completely.

“It’s a good present for him,” Taekwoon said. “He’ll like it.”

“Thank you,” Hongbin said quietly. “Really.” 

“Hongbinnie,” Taekwoon said.

“What?”

“Did you bring the Cheetos?”

Hongbin sighed.

 

 

“Have you done that before?” Hongbin asked, naked, lying on his bed with Wonshik delightfully worn out next to him. “The like. With your fingers, I mean.”

“Uh,” Wonshik said, panting. “I don’t know, have I?”

“No, I think that was new,” Hongbin said, relatively certain he would have remembered such a trick if Wonshik had done it before. He was working hard to fill out his sexual experiences dictionary, but Wonshik kept pulling new things out of thin air to please and dazzle him. He wasn’t opposed in any way, but it always made him wonder what else Wonshik could do.

“Huh,” Wonshik said. He rolled over until he could curl up next to Hongbin; they were much to hot for cuddling still. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Hongbin said immediately. “Thought that was kind of obvious.”

“Then I guess I’ll try it again sometime,” Wonshik said with a grin. “It’ll be a surprise.”

Hongbin grumbled, but he finally felt like maybe he could tolerate skin-to-skin again and rolled on his side; Wonshik curled closer, his head on Hongbin’s shoulder and nose against his collarbone. He nuzzled Hongbin and made a pleased humming noise. Cuddling was something that never really stopped being confusing to Hongbin, because theoretically, it would be something he hated. Too close, too sappy, too cringey—but he liked it. He _liked_ the warm drip of emotions after sex, he _liked_ the sheen on Wonshik’s skin, he _liked_ this contentment and affection radiating off of his soft boy—it made it so much more obvious how much he loved Wonshik. Something he should have loathed, he actually very much enjoyed.

“I’ve been thinking,” Wonshik said against his skin.

“Good for you,” Hongbin said dryly. He was soft, but he wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to give Wonshik a hard time. It kept things fresh.

“I kind of want to get a tattoo,” Wonshik continued.

“A tattoo? Of what? Where?” Hongbin asked, frowning as his mind ran through all the tattoos he had any knowledge of.

“I don’t know, I just want one,” Wonshik said.

“Aren’t they supposed to be meaningful or something?” Hongbin pointed out.

“I mean—yeah, I guess, but I don’t have a lot of meaningful-ness to pull from,” Wonshik sighed. “I kind of thought lyrics might be cool, but I like so many songs. Plus, what if something weird happens and the artist is revealed to be a criminal or a creep and now my stupid ass has his words permanently written on my body?”

“That would suck,” Hongbin agreed.

“I could get your name!” Wonshik said brightly.

“No,” Hongbin said immediately.

“It’d be great, for Valentine’s day! Over my hea—”

“ _I will change my name and go into hiding,_ ” Hongbin hissed. “Do not test me.”

“Fine,” Wonshik sighed again. “But you’re keeping me from leveling up my coolness.”

“The only thing keeping you from leveling up your coolness is the part where you think coolness is something you can just put experience points in to achieve,” Hongbin informed him. “I’m no expert but I don’t think that’s how ‘cool’ works.”

“I could dye my hair,” Wonshik said. “What’s a cool color?”

“Again, I’m no expert, not sure why you’re consulting me,” Hongbin said.

“Because your opinion matters to me,” Wonshik whined. Before Hongbin could get too emotional about it, he continued, “Also I have to be careful not to accidentally making myself too ugly to fuck.”

“I mean,” Hongbin said, “We _have_ a blindfold, worst comes worst.”

“Rude,” Wonshik snorted.

“Honestly, do whatever you want,” Hongbin said, running his fingers through Wonshik’s sweaty hair. It was kind of gross, so he stopped. “I think you could pull off pretty much anything.”

“Really?” Wonshik asked, popping his head up. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Hongbin nodded. “I do. Except frosted tips, do not do frosted tips, I will never be seen in public with you again.”

“Someone might think you joined a boyband,” Wonshik nodded. “Can’t have that. What about blond? Like as blond as I can go, I mean. Without having to shave my head after.”

“Have you ever shaved your head?” Hongbin asked, surprised.

“I’ve gotten close buzzes but never _bald_ , no way,” Wonshik said. “I like having hair.”

“Blond sounds kind of cool,” Hongbin said. Wonshik pressed a kiss against his clavicle for no apparent reason.

“Maybe I’ll try it then,” he said. “Plus, once you bleach you can put color on top, so I could be blond for a while and then pick something else.”

“Knock yourself out,” Hongbin said, smiling. “Surprise me.” He was rewarded by Wonshik giggling against his neck and splaying a large hand flat against the small of Hongbin’s back in a way that always felt ever-so-slightly possessive.

“Valentine’s is going to be wild this year,” Wonshik snickered.

‘You have no idea,’ Hongbin thought.

 

 

“I’m doing something wrong,” Hongbin insisted. “I can tell what it should sound like, but when I play it, is sounds wrong.”

“Wrong?” Hakyeon asked from his position on the couch. Taekwoon was leaning rather heavily on him while still facing Hongbin, eating Cheetos with a paper towel in his lap to wipe his fingers on. Apparently Hakyeon had drawn the line at cheese dust hands.

“Yeah,” Hongbin said. “Listen.” He strummed out the first verse and then the chorus; to his ear, it still sounded choppy and stilted. Hakyeon frowned slightly, but Taekwoon was shaking his head.

“You need to move before the sounds end,” he said. He wiped his fingers well before reaching forward to put his fingers on Hongbin’s wrist. “When I tap, go to the next chord position.” This time, as Hongbin went through, Taekwoon would tap. It was much sooner than he’d been playing it before, and Hongbin realized what he meant by ‘before the sounds end’: instead of waiting for the strings to stop, he had to immediately be positioned for the next cluster of notes. This round was still a bit stop-and-start, but significantly less so.

“Songs continue,” Taekwoon said. “Stops are deliberate composition tools, so unless a full rest is there in the notes, don’t rest.”

“It also helps to think of it as movement,” Hakyeon commented. “You don’t move by freezing, you move by a flow of actions that connect. Music is the same.”

“I’m just worried,” Hongbin admitted.

“About what?” Hakyeon asked.

“That—that hyung has put so much effort into this and I’m just not good enough to make it work,” Hongbin said, dropping his head.

“Binnie, how many times do we have to tell you? Have a little more faith in yourself,” Hakyeon scolded gently. “Just do your best, that’s the most anyone can do. Wonshik will love it.”

“How can you _know_ that though?” Hongbin sighed.

“Because he loves you,” Taekwoon said simply. Hakyeon nodded. Hongbin felt a blush rising on his cheeks. On one hand, it was nice to know that their feelings were somewhat common knowledge. On the other, it was incredibly embarrassing to know how obvious they apparently were. 

“Just keep at it, and you’ll be fine,” Hakyeon said. “Believe in yourself, you can do this.”

“You’re already mostly there,” Taekwoon reminded him.

“Okay,” Hongbin said quietly. “I’ll—I’ll keep trying, then.”

‘For him,’ he thought to himself.

 

_Wonshik: hey so im at this tatoo palce with jaehwanie_  
_Wonshik: how do i spel yoru name in crusive_

“Oh fuck no,” Hongbin said.

 _Are you drunk?!_ he sent back.

_Wonshik: yep_

_Why?!_ Hongbin demanded; he’d never seen Wonshik drink before, let alone get _drunk_ before. No matter how he looked at it, Wonshik was _even fewer_ inhibitions seemed like a terrible idea for someone who was already very affectionate.

Okay, so maybe he was specifically concerned that Wonshik would kiss Jaehwan.

_Wonshik: i dont remember but i think its somebodys birthday_  
_Wonshik: hongbinnie im going to get yur name_

_DO NOT DO THAT. WHERE IS JAEHWAN?_

_Wonshik: hes bein a buzkilll_  
_Wonshik: he wont’ admit its romancic_

_LISTEN TO HIM, HE IS COMPLETELY CORRECT._

_Wonshik: shuld i put your name on my chest or my asss? its all yors so you cna choose_

Hongbin called Hakyeon in utter panic; it felt somewhat instinctive.

“Hyung,” Hongbin said as soon as he picked up. “Wonshik is drunk at a tattoo parlor with Jaehwan and he’s about to get a tramp-stamp of my name.”

“He—wait, what!?” Hakyeon squeaked.

“HE’S ALREADY THERE,” Hongbin shouted. “HE ASKED ME HOW I SPELL MY NAME IN CURSIVE.”

“Oh dear god,” Hakyeon said. “Why is he drunk?!”

“I have no idea, he’s never—I’ve never seen him do this before,” Hongbin admitted. He wasn’t sure why that made him feel a sick sort of twist in his stomach, but he didn’t exactly have time to figure it out.

“Okay,” Hakyeon said as if he was steadying himself. “Okay, well, I don’t think legit tattoo places will work on drunk people, if that helps.”

“What about less legit places?” Hongbin shot back. “I don’t think he’s shopping around for quality at this point.”

“Fair,” Hakyeon sighed. “Right, Taekwoon and I will go find him. Is Jaehwan drunk too?”

“No, he’s trying to stop Wonshik I think,” Hongbin said.

“Worst comes worst, we’ll find Hyukkie, he can drag Wonshik out of the building without too much effort.”

“Is he a friendly drunk?” Hongbin blurted out.

“Hyukkie?”

“No, Wonshik,” Hongbin clarified. “Does he like… hug people? Or kiss people? And things?”

“Binnie,” Hakyeon said softly. “Are you worried he’s going to kiss somebody?”

“I’m worried he’s going to tattoo my name on his ass and _then_ kiss somebody!”

“Even drunk,” Hakyeon said, “Wonshikkie wouldn’t kiss anybody but you. No promises on the tattoo, but he won’t make out with anybody.”

“Please find him hyung,” Hongbin said. “Tattoos are a level of relationship commitment I am _really_ not ready for.”

“We’ll get him somehow,” Hakyeon assured him, hanging up.

Less than an hour of sheer panic later, his doorbell rang. He opened it to find a very harassed-looking Taekwoon, and very relieved-looking Jaehwan, with Wonshik draped between them.

“Hongbinnie!” Wonshik said as soon as the he saw him. He attempted to reach out for a hug and barely missed clipping Taekwoon in the face with his elbow. Unsteady on his feet, Wonshik stumbled forwards before essentially throwing his full weight at Hongbin for exactly as strong a hug as Hongbin expected. He caught Wonshik, but barely.

“What the hell happened!?” Hongbin asked Jaehwan. Jaehwan winced.

“I think it’s probably better if you hear it from him,” Jaehwan said.

“Make him drink as much water as you can,” Taekwoon said. He sounded pissed, but also surprisingly concerned. “I don’t think he had enough to puke, but tomorrow morning is probably going to be shitty.”

“Great,” Hongbin sighed. Wonshik, in his extremely affectionate state, was nuzzling at his ear and hugging him almost too hard; Hongbin patted him stiffly on the back. He smelled awful. “Please tell me you got to him before he did it.”

“Not a mark on him,” Jaehwan said. “Mostly because he kept trying to explain to the tattoo artist that your name is the most beautiful thing he was ever going to tattoo in his entire career.”

“It _is_ ,” Wonshik said firmly in response. “He should have been _honored._ ”

“You need to lay down,” Hongbin said with a sigh. He waved off his friends with a grateful smile before steering his increasingly handsy boyfriend towards a bed. Maybe if he was lucky Wonshik would just pass out and he wouldn’t have to play nursemaid. His hopes were dashed when Wonshik just pulled him down with him, mumbling nonsense affection against his skin. Hongbin sighed.

“Let’s make out!” Wonshik suggested brightly.

“Let’s not,” Hongbin shot back. “You’re trashed, I’ll pass.”

“Okay,” Wonshik said sadly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, but you smell like booze,” Hongbin informed him as Wonshik released him.

“What were you thinking?” Hongbin asked, trying to pull Wonshik’s shoes off his feet before getting him in the bed properly. “First drunk, then a _tattoo_? What happened to just going blond?”

“It’s not good enough,” Wonshik said firmly.

“What? What’s not good enough?”

“For Valentine’s,” Wonshik said. “None of it is good enough for you. Cards or candy or flowers—it’s all shitty. You deserve something special.”

“That’s—you don’t have to give me anything,” Hongbin said, touched despite his irritation.

“No, I have to,” Wonshik said. “I can’t lose you.”

Hongbin frowned in confusion. He made Wonshik sit up; sitting on the edge of the bed facing him, he started on Wonshik’s shirt buttons. He couldn’t miss the red flush on alcohol, or the way Wonshik couldn’t seem to stand not touching him somehow, with a hand on Hongbin’s leg or back at all times.

“Lose me?” Hongbin snorted. “What are you talking about?”

Wonshik put a hand on his cheek and leaned in for a kiss—that Hongbin dodged. His breath was _foul_. As soon as he did, Wonshik pulled his hands back and wrapped them around himself, gripping his forearms and looking down. He was silent for a moment before muttering softly.

“It’s just like they said,” he said. “You’re too good for me.”

“Oh for—we’ve been _over this_ ,” Hongbin said firmly. He put a hand under Wonshik’s chin and lifted his face. “Number one, no, I’m really not, and number two, I don’t give a _fuck_ what someone else thinks. I love you. As long as you still love me, then there’s no reason to overthink it.”

“But I’m—”

“You’re mine,” Hongbin said, the flare of possessiveness in his chest kicking up. “I’m keeping you.”

Wonshik leaned forward until his forehead landed on Hongbin’s shoulder.

“They made me feel like shit,” he confessed quietly. “Worthless.”

“Who exactly are ‘they’ anyway?” Hongbin said gently, putting a protective hand on the back of Wonshik’s neck. He didn’t know all of Wonshik’s friends, but he knew there were a fair few that definitely should have been ditched long before now, and Wonshik was just too nice to cut ties.

“Some girls from my tech recording class,” Wonshik mumbled. “I helped them fix their mixing board and they invited me out.” 

“And you drank.”

“I didn’t know I was,” Wonshik said. “They spiked my coke.”

“They _what?!_ ” Hongbin snapped, putting his other hand on Wonshik’s back. 

“They laughed. It was funny,” Wonshik said in a tone that absolutely did not sound like he thought it was even slightly funny. On the contrary, he sounded fairly upset about it. “After that, they said maybe if I drank more, I’d forget about it.”

“And the tattoo?”

“I told you,” Wonshik said, wrapping his arms around Hongbin’s waist as if he thought he was going to bolt any second, “They said I’m not good enough.”

“That’s wrong,” Hongbin said. “It’s completely wrong, Wonshik.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I promise,” Hongbin said. He bit back the ‘dummy’ because he was fairly sure that would land a bit harder than usual. “We’ve been over this, remember?”

“I know,” Wonshik said. 

“Who kissed me?” Hongbin asked.

“Me,” Wonshik said.

“Who did I want to kiss?”

“...Me.”

“Who did I stay over with?”

“Me.”

“Who do I go to the movies with? Pizza? Video games? Sex? Relax around?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Hongbin said. “You. Only you. So ignore the assholes who essentially drugged you for a joke and listen to me, the guy who loves you.”

Wonshik’s arms tightened around him, and Hongbin could feel a warm wetness against his neck as Wonshik turned his head.

“Love you,” he said softly. Hongbin hugged him back, silent, trying to decide if it would be worth tracking the girls down to give them... a piece of his mind. A piece that involved, “You literally spiked someone underage in front of witnesses, assholes,” and, “If you ever talk to him again I’m going to hack you both and release your passwords on 4chan until you’ve got so many trojans, Troy will fall to Greece.”

“I’m going to get you some water,” Hongbin said when he thought he could speak softly again. “Then you’re going to sleep.”

“Alone?” Wonshik asked, squeezing.

“Of course not,” Hongbin snorted. “I’ll be right next to you. Tomorrow you’re going to be sick anyway, might as well get some sleep before you have the worst morning ever.”

“Okay,” Wonshik said, releasing him. Hongbin stood up, and Wonshik caught his wrist.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik said. “I’m—really sorry.”

Hongbin bent down to kiss him. His breath was still gross, but there were more important things at stake here, the first one being Wonshik’s sense of safety. He spent so much time making Hongbin feel safe, protected—Hongbin would do anything to give that feeling to him too.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Just try and relax, so you can sleep, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Those girls were going to regret this.

 

 

_Kongbinnie: I need a favor._  
_G0NGCH@N: sure, what’s up?_  
_Kongbinnie: Choi Rana and Lee Haneul. They spiked my bf’s coke for a joke._  
_G0NGCH@N: wowwwww that was a stupid move_  
_G0NGCH@N: I’m guessing you want campus security to ‘find out’?_  
_Kongbinnie: With video. They went to Roadside._  
_Kongbinnie: Also, I want the batteries on every device with a signal they own to mysteriously drain to the bottom in under two hours the second its unplugged._  
_G0NGCH@N: yikes, you are pissed. I’ll get it done though, since its you_  
_Kongbinnie: Appreciated._

 

 

When Hongbin woke up, Wonshik was gone. He panicked for a moment before remembering Taekwoon’s warning; on a hunch, he headed to the bathroom and found Wonshik sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Hongbin asked. Wonshik winced.

“No,” he said.

“Hangover?”

“Yes.”

“Did you throw up?”

“Not yet.”

Hongbin went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. He brought it back to the bathroom and put it on the counter, then opened the medicine cabinet and got out some aspirin. He tapped out a few tablets and crouched down.

“Here,” he said quietly, “This should help, I think.” Wonshik took them both; he was so _pale_ and _quiet_ that it was downright unsettling. Gently, Hongbin ran a hand through his hair. Wonshik leaned forward until his forehead was on Hongbin’s shoulder again. The anger Hongbin had barely held back last night returned; this was all those girls’ fault.

“You’ve never drank that much, have you?” he asked, hand on Wonshik’s back. All he got in response was a shake of the head, confirming. Hongbin moved the glass out of the way so he could sit properly and hold Wonshik with both arms.

“I’m stupid,” Wonshik said. “So fucking stupid.”

“No you’re not,” Hongbin protested. “They spiked—”

“The first one,” Wonshik said. “The other two were just me.”

“Why did you do that?” Hongbin asked, careful not to sound accusatory.

“Because I felt like shit and I thought that would help, for some reason,” Wonshik said. “Like maybe if I drank enough, I’d forget how shitty I am.”

“You’re not shitty,” Hongbin said.

“I _am_ shitty,” Wonshik said with bitter conviction. “Look at me. I have class today. _You_ have class today, but we’re sitting on your fucking bathroom floor while I reap the consequences of being a fucking moron.”

“You are not the first person to drink to forget, or the first person to regret it,” Hongbin informed him. “Stop beating yourself up for it. Yeah, it was dumb. You won’t do it again.”

“Never,” Wonshik said. “Fuck this.”

They sat there in silence, and Hongbin hoped it would be enough to at least soften the punches Wonshik was delivering to himself.

 

 

When the song finished, Taekwoon clapped and smiled. He seemed... proud, somehow, and Hongbin felt himself blushing in response.

“See?” Taekwoon said. “You smoothed it out.”

“So it’s not a disaster?”

“It sounds great,” Taekwoon said. “You worked really hard, I can tell.”

“I hope... he likes it,” Hongbin said quietly.

“He will,” Taekwoon said firmly. “Definitely.”

 

 

 _Come over,_ Hongbin sent off. _I want to show you something._

_Wonshik: Class gets out at 4:40; I’ll head out right after._  
_Wonshik: Can’t wait to see you! ♥_

Hongbin smiled.

 

 

As soon as he opened the door, Wonshik kissed him; Hongbin couldn’t really help melting a little, especially because Wonshik had put his hands on Hongbin’s waist and upgraded the kiss from a simple peck to something considerably more... affectionate. Hongbin managed to break away when he remembered what he had invited Wonshik over for anyway. He stepped out of Wonshik’s hold, but took him by the hand and led him to the sofa.

“Sit down please,” he said. Confused, Wonshik sat as directed. Hongbin took his guitar off the stand and moved the chair he’d already put nearby to in front of Wonshik. Settling with one knee up and fingers placed, he looked up.

“This is, um,” he stammered, turning red. “This is... for you. I—wrote it for you.”

Wonshik’s eyes went wide.

Before he could speak, Hongbin started playing. The song started soft, a few warm and gentle chords building together, gaining momentum. The transitions Taekwoon put together carried each verse into the chorus, itself something strong. In Hongbin’s head, the verses were them, separately. The first was him, hesitant but slowly falling into something he didn’t entirely understand. The chorus was the hours in the studio, the play, lunches in the dining hall—the second verse was Wonshik, or rather how he saw Wonshik: sweet and kind, playful, steadfast and reliable, a source of happiness he hadn’t had before. The second chorus was the day of games, the date he didn’t want to end. The bridge was the way he felt in Wonshik’s arms, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his touch. The last chorus was firm, triumphant.

And then it ended, and Hongbin was, for some reason, afraid to look up. Especially because Wonshik was silent.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Hongbin mumbled, still looking down.

He heard the sofa creak as Wonshik stood up; carefully, he took the guitar out of Hongbin’s hands and set it gently on the cushions, then took both of Hongbin’s hands and guided him to his feet. Without a moment’s pause, he wrapped his arms around Hongbin’s waist and lifted him up, spinning them around. Hongbin laughed in surprise, ducking his head down in case Wonshik forgot how tall they were and brought him a little too close to the ceiling. They twirled in place, giggling delightedly.

Then Wonshik put him down, placed both his hands on Hongbin’s face and kissed him. It started warm and heated up, with Hongbin twisting his fingers in Wonshik’s shirt front; Wonshik’s hands moved to his waist and Hongbin tilted his head, inviting Wonshik in. 

After far too little time, Wonshik pressed their foreheads together and beamed.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful.”

“I know it’s not very good,” Hongbin said quickly. “But I’m still not great at guitar so it seemed better to make something a little simple—”

Wonshik interrupted him by kissing him again, and Hongbin couldn’t help but make a soft sound against his lips. Wonshik’s hands moved under the back hem of his shirt, skin against his palms, and Hongbin let his own palms skate up Wonshik’s front until he could put them in the back of his neck, holding him close. He felt like he could taste Wonshik’s delight on his tongue, warm and bright.

“I love you so fucking much,” Wonshik said with bone-deep conviction, and Hongbin grinned.

“Good,” Hongbin said. “Since we’re swearing, I fucking love you too.”

“You win Valentine’s for basically eternity, you know that right?” Wonshik gushed. “I can never in my life top this, not even close.”

“It’s not _that_ great,” Hongbin said, flushing.

“Binnie, I bought you Bluetooth headphones,” Wonshik informed him. “ _You wrote me a song._ ”

“Whoa, Bluetooth headphones?!” Hongbin said excitedly. “I’ve wanted some for _ages!_ ”

“I can’t tell if you’re bullshitting me or not,” Wonshik said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“No bullshit, seriously,” Hongbin said. “My earbuds are shit, they electrocute me like three times a week at minimum.”

“But I didn’t do anything _special_ ,” Wonshik began, but Hongbin cut him off by putting a finger on his lips.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point to give something the other person would really like?” he said. “I definitely would like some headphones. Especially when the standard options for this godforsaken capitalist wet dream of a holiday are cards, candy, and _flowers_? Flowers don’t even do anything except look nice for like a day and then they wilt and remind you how every day you’re alive you’re one day closer to your death.”

Wonshik stared at him.

“You got me flowers too, didn’t you,” Hongbin said flatly.

“I got you exactly one flower,” Wonshik said. “I didn’t know roses cost so much and I only have so many kidneys to sell.”

“...I do kind of like roses,” Hongbin admitted. “They’re a little macabre.”

“I worry about you sometimes,” Wonshik informed him.

“Better hang around then,” Hongbin said, pulling him closer. “I have some more nihilisms to cause you concern.”

“Right,” Wonshik said, smiling. “Gotta keep you on the path of light and optimism somehow.”

Wonshik kissed him again, and he almost forgot all about the headphones.

 

“So... what did you and Hakyeon-hyung do?” Hongbin asked. “For Valentine’s, I mean. Don’t tell me if it’ll scar me.” Taekwoon looked up from his lunch tray; he had the decency to finish chewing before replying.

“We went dancing,” he said. “There’s a ballroom place downtown. It was salsa night.”

“That’s... sweet,” Hongbin said, surprisingly warm at the thought.

“And then we tried body chocolate,” Taekwoon continued as if this was a perfectly acceptable topic for casual conversation. “Fun. Doing the laundry after was kind of shit though.”

Hongbin looked Taekwoon dead in the eye and put on his brand-new noise-canceling Bluetooth headphones, with Billy Joel turned up loud.


End file.
